


With all the power in the universe

by klatukatt



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klatukatt/pseuds/klatukatt
Summary: Based on this tumblr post:"the only thing that would get me to BEGIN forgiving friedkin for his crimes is if he used his newfound backstage-of-reality omnipotence powers to immediately resurrect estevez"https://farah-adrienne-black.tumblr.com/post/176023099783/the-only-thing-that-would-get-me-to-begin





	With all the power in the universe

His body wracked with pain, Estevez gasped and held his side where the bullet had entered.  
“Oh shit. No no no no.”  
He opened his eyes and saw this guy looming over his prone body, this fucking guy who had just shot him for no fucking reason. Except, the guy’s eyes were completely black with the reflections of stars shining brightly and there was blood spattered up his bare arms, my blood?, and the sky—  
Estevez’s mind could not understand the depth of the swirling colors just behind this murderer leaning into his field of view. He closed his eyes and groaned instead.  
“Okay, okay, I got this. I’m not supposed to be doing this, but I got it.” The voice did not sound like they got it but the pain and the colors faded away to blackness.

 

Estevez sat up suddenly on a creaky old mattress and immediately put his hands over his face. Either the whiskey or the concussion was coming back to haunt him. He slowly looked around the room, giving his vision time to adjust.  
The room was unfamiliar but at the same time very recognizable to a seasoned cop: cheap motel. It had curtains that blocked out most of the sunlight, bedspreads with a pattern that cleverly hid stains, and the smell of fake freshness. The only signs of life were a black duffel bag on the adjacent  twin bed from Estevez and a man sitting on the floor with his back up against the far wall. The man was also strangely familiar, and Estevez took a moment to search his memory. The standoff outside the Brotzman apartment. This kid was, no not FBI, CIA maybe?  
“Where are we?” Estevez asked calmly, not giving away his bewilderment at the situation.  
“I don’t know,” the kid said with a sigh. “Somewhere in Eastern Washington? But I do know it’s a place. It’s a place that is real and exists.” He stared straight ahead with a look of exhaustion.  
“Okay.” Time to prompt for more information. “I remember I was in Seattle…”  
“Uh, yeah,” the kid smiled faintly, “yeah Seattle was like a while ago. Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to say, first thing, that I’m sorry I shot you.”  
“You shot me?” Estevez began feeling his body for wounds.  
“Oh well you won’t remember that, but it’s like important for me to say that. I kinda went bad, like evil almost, for a while so now I’m trying to, you know, fix some stuff.”  
“Okaay.” The information was coming but it didn’t make any sense.  
“Yeah, and second thing you should know is you’ve been dead for like, eight months? I don’t know, I lost track after four.”  
“Excuse me, I’ve been—I’ve been dead?”  
“Yeah, and I’m sorry for that. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”  
Estevez once again felt his body carefully.  The bandages on his hand and head were still fresh from the fight at the Spring mansion the day before.  
“You won’t remember being dead either, I don’t think. What is the last thing you remember?”  
“I was… I was going to see my boss, ex-boss. He was working with the Men of the Machine, and I don’t know exactly what I was gonna say besides that I knew and I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”  
“Okay, that makes sense.” The kid nodded. “I shot you when you got there, and I’m sorry. But what happened now is before you got there I pulled you out and now you’re here so I couldn’t have shot you, you get it?”  
“Is this more time travel bullshit?”  
“Kind of, yeah. I couldn’t fix a dead body, I like tried, but I could get you before you got dead. Does that make sense?”  
Surprisingly to Estevez, it did. “So why did you bring me back?”  
“Because I shouldn’t have killed you. That was a mistake.” He sighed again. “I can’t fix everything, but I’m trying to be good now. And also… also I could really use some help.”  
“You want my help?”  
“Yeah. I’m kinda supposed to be dead too, and if Blackwing finds me than shit is gonna be very bad. So maybe, since we’re both dead guys, you could help me… fix things?”  
Estevez remembered yesterday, because it was literally just yesterday for him, and that surge of anger when those two dumb-ass detectives told him they couldn’t use the machine to go back and save Zimmerfield. If you can’t use that kind of power to save people then what was the point? He eyed the other man trying to read him. His body posture was open and honest but there was a slight sense of fear to his face. Estevez could work with that.  
“Sure. I’ll help since I sure as hell don’t have a life anymore. What’s your name?”  
“Sargent Fried— I mean, Hugo. I don’t have a rank anymore.”  
“I guess I don’t either. I’m Estevez.” He stood up and stretched. “Okay, Hugo, let’s make some magic.”


End file.
